Historical epic fantasy novel from early 1980s, said to be a precursor to Game of Thrones, by late cult author John M. Ford

Lovecraft paperbacks from 1971, covers by Gervasio Gallardo

Cyborg Dragon Heart

Hey all! I took a dive into sci-fi with my latest short story about heists, hacker witches, and robot dragons. The story is free to read on my Patreon, and Part 2 will be out this month!

Patreon Link

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Once upon a time, witches spoke to trees and flowers and streams. But times change, and so too must witches.

Pebble leaned against a sleek, chrome building. Beside her, a nearly seamless door was carved in the metal, and Pebble stood in the narrow alley, waiting for it to open.

It was autumn and frigid, and Pebble grumpily folded her arms across her stomach. Each arm was a burnished copper, fused to scar tissue that encircled her shoulder blades, and she could feel the chill of the metal through the fabric of her sleeveless hooded shirt. She clenched her fingers, the mechanisms between the oiled joints clicking. She blew a frustrated breath, and as the pale cloud billowed from her lips, she scanned the skies.

So far, so good.

The gray pre-dawn skies were clear. If the telltale shadow of a dragon wheeling above were to darken the alleyway, they were well and truly fucked. Enforcers traveling on their polished motorbikes were bad enough, but if they caught wind of her coven’s heist and set dragon riders upon them, they were as good as done.

Pebble had only ever seen the Enforcers’ mechanical dragons at a distance. They were fashioned out of smooth black metal and heaved putrid smoke from their hinged jaws. The dragon automatons and their riders monitored the city from far above, sending droplets of oil falling onto houses and roads like black, putrid rain.

She’d always wondered if the mechanical creatures looked anything like real dragons. She’d seen pictures, sure. But who could tell if those were accurate? A photo could be edited or outright manufactured these days – her coven sister, Honey, had skill enough to do it – and only the longest lived elves and nightfolk could claim to have ever laid eyes on a real dragon. The last flesh and blood skybeast had been exterminated years ago. Those who lived in the penthouses that scraped clouds hadn’t much liked the idea of sharing sky space with feral, unpredictable beasts. They only liked beasts they could control.

Pebble didn’t think they’d meant to get rid of the lush forests the legends spoke of, nor the rivers as wide as highways. The elves, after all, had loved nature as fiercely as Pebble’s witch ancestors. But dwarves and gnomes had been talented at digging up the earth for precious minerals and metals, and the long lived elves and nightfolk had used those with these skills to accumulate their immense wealth and power. After hundreds of years, they were left with Wastes – miles of dried, torn up land that stretched for miles between gleaming cities. And the elves and nightfolk? They used their riches to buy food from the best rooftop agricultural units, water drawn from untapped underground wells, and finery crafted at the hands of dwarves and gnomes who’d been forced to turn to other forms of business.

And the witches? Well, they’d learned to speak a language beyond that of the trees.

Pebble’s earpiece crackled to life.

“How’s it looking out there?”

The voice, smooth as satin, belonged to Ivy, one of Pebble’s other coven sisters, and the leader of their current operation.

Glancing from the open end of the alley to the still empty skies, Pebble replied, “So far so good. How’s it going where you’re at?”

A crackle, then, “Dew’s getting friendly with the security system. She’s speaking with it now. I imagine she’ll have cracked it soon. Expect us to be out in a few minutes with the drive.”

Pebble nodded, knowing full well that it didn’t count as an answer. Not that Ivy was expecting one. She and Dew were busy, and the last thing they needed was the voice of a junior witch filling their ears as they stole fifty thousand units of digital currency from one of the wealthiest nightfolk conglomerates, Pebble bitterly thought.

It wasn’t even that she particularly wanted the stress that would come with the older witches’ jobs, but at nineteen she was nearly an adult by witch standards and being relegated to watch-duty felt lame.

Scuffing her boot against the asphalt, she checked the road and the sky again. When she pulled her boot back, she noticed a bit of green sprouting out from a crack in the pavement. With another quick look around, Pebble knelt. The plant sprout was a stubborn little thing that consisted of a long, spindly stem and nubs that looked like they wanted to be leaves. Despite being a sickly mixture of yellow and green, the tiny plant stretched upwards, seeking what would surely be a sliver of light once the sun rose.

Unfolding her arms, Pebble unthinkingly reached out. Metal index finger extended, she brushed the plant. From the touch, she felt a dull, distant pulse of something. Or perhaps the sensation was simply her arm regulating its internal temperature, for moments later, a fan powered on with a whining hum. Though the witches in Pebble’s coven didn’t actively practice plant speak, it was a well known fact that all witches carried the natural abilities of their ancestors within them. Even Dew, who spoke more naturally with computers than anyone else in the coven, could perk up a wilting houseplant with little more than a touch. But unlike Pebble, Dew still had her natural hands.

Pebble’s artificial finger twitched, and the sickly plant gave a shiver.

It wasn’t a voilent accident or anything – what had happened to Pebble’s arms. Not that Pebble had been old enough to remember when it happened. Apparently, it was some kind of infection born of pollution. It had gotten in Pebble’s skin, then it had seeped into her body and organs. Pebble’s arms weren’t all she’d lost, and it was lucky the coven had recently pulled off a large heist, otherwise they surely wouldn’t have been able to afford the cost of the operation and the additional internal cybernetic replacements. Growing up, Pebble had heard more times than she could count that she was lucky to be alive. Though, perhaps alive wasn’t quite the right word. The machine that had replaced her heart thrummed behind her ribs.

You can read the rest on my Patreon!

Goal Summary 2022 - Wk #22

It’s Monday, so let’s talk about last week, this coming week, and all the weeks I’m going to spend playing the new Dragon Age game. Someday.

Two weeks in a row! How many weeks counts as a habit? Asking for a friend…

Last Week

Polish/submit The Finest Creation of an Artful God
Revise >10 chapters of Something Sulfurous
Write ~500 words of Victoria
Finish the current chapter of my Horizon Forbidden West fanfic
Read something

How’d I Do?

Polish/submit The Finest Creation of an Artful God

Lol. Nope. Did not look at this project at…

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Today is my Nini’s birthday. She’s turning three hundred and eighty-four years old. That might seem old, especially if you’re under a hundred and can’t think of how somebody could live that long, but if you met my Nini, you’d believe her.

Her labret flaps against her chin as she speaks, like a fish gasping its last breath in the bottom of a skiff. One day I will wear a labret too. I wonder if mine will ever be so big and beautiful. My sister once said that our Nini’s lip disgusts her, and that she’ll never be like our Nini. Or Mother. I can still feel the sting of her words. Mother died one the day the ocean rose in anger and swept away the world—the day the sky crashed to earth like heavenly fire—the day the mountain unleashed its fury.

She asks me to bring her a gift. “A treasure to keep me young.”

I leave the village to hunt for my Nini’s treasure. Alaga is with me, a village dog that adopted me as his own. He is white as starlight, so bright it’s sometimes hard to look at him. My family cannot see Alaga. Nini says he’s a spirit dog. She’s the only one who believes, even if she can’t see him, either.

Alaga isn’t the only mystery in my life. This new world—with its skies like grey stone, sunsets like fire, and chill winds—is full of mysteries. Like my Nini. No one knows where she came from. Bitter men and women of my village call her mambabarang, and spit flies from their lips as they say it. “They are the drunk and the lost,” my ma used to say. “Scared of kindness. Of difference.“ My Nini’s skin is as black as Alaga is white. She came to our village a long time ago, from lands unknown, and kept my village safe when the world ended. I think Alaga came with her, across the vast oceans on her ship of stone. My Nini is the most beautiful woman in the world.

We follow the trails that my village has used since before time had meaning. Before the sky darkened, before the heavens wept grey, dusty tears. These trails once wound through groves of fruit trees, wild with deer and other animals. The deer are still here, drifting through the grey forest, though most of the trees are just twisted dead things. They look so sad to me. Once free, now lost. Alaga barks at a doe and her fawn. They leap away—high, higher, towards the sun. They disappear into the clouds that never break.

Alaga runs along the trail, paws leaving no mark in the ash. He stops before a tree, healthier-looking than the rest; its dusty boughs are splashed with a scattering of red and green, resilient and boldly alive in all the greyness. It is my Nini’s tree—she’d planted it herself, the seed carried with her from her homeland beyond the waves. It’s a magic tree, I think. I kneel under it and my knees sink into the drifts. Ash collects under my nails as I dig.

There I find my Nini’s treasure, gleaming where it landed after falling from the tree. More of the treasures hang above—shriveled, the colour of the sky the day the world ended, and more buds. A sign, maybe, that the world might return to what it had once been. They are far above the short reach of my arms. But I need only one today.

I race home, clutching the bright treasure tight to my chest. Alaga runs beside me. The gleam of Nini’s approval glows in the storm of thought, memory, and imagination that lives behind my eyes. My Nini often says that it’s small things that make life wonderful; but the treasure wrapped in my hands is no small thing. The ghostly sweet taste of persimmon juice tickles my tongue. I know my Nini will share a bite on her birthday.

Because she is love and generosity and all good things.

This story was originally published in Tide of Shadows and Other Stories, available here: http://amzn.to/1saQahE

Our Forgotten Devils: Character Introduction: Rebecca Mathers

Rebecca Mathers

• 22 • she/her • aesxual•

• black hair • brown eyes • dark brown skin•

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The walls are covered in decorations: framed copies of Gustave Doré’s engraved illustrations, pages from age-old books gone yellow and faded, dreamcatchers and charms hanging from golden hooks, and a skull mounted to a display shelf which could easily be mistaken for human if not for the horns protruding from the front. There’s also a glass display case against one wall which is full of an odd assortment of objects, one of which looks to be a candle holder shaped suspiciously like a hand. 

 “This might be a stupid question,” I begin, overcome by curiosity, confusion and, if I’m being honest, a bit of unease. “But what exactly is all this stuff?”

 In response, Rebecca raises an eyebrow. “And you say you want to talk to Dr Cabot?” she replies doubtfully. 

 It’s not an answer, and I find that slightly irritating. But before I can ask her what she means by it, she turns on her heel, leaving the room with a final shake of her head.

As the daughter of a theologist and a medium, Rebecca Mathers has spent her entire life surrounded by tales of magic and demons. Now working as an assistant to the eccentric demonologist Dr Cabot, her days are spent cataloguing grimoires and shelving strange objects. But Rebecca knows she was meant to do more, and her greatest wish is to be able to utilise her extensive knowledge.

Her latest task is simple: go with Alexander Michaelis and retrieve a book his father borrowed years ago and never returned. However, the Michaelis family have much bigger problems than borrowed books, and soon Rebecca might find her wish fulfilled in the worst possible way…

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Playlist:

•‘mother’s daughter’ by miley cyrus • ’these boots are made for walking’ by nancy sinatra • ’devil’s worst nightmare’ by fjøra • ’therefore i am’ by billie eilish • ’believer’ by imagine dragons •

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Taglist (ask to be added):

@corkythewriteblr@mel-writes-with-her-dragons@ashen-crest@thelaughingstag@imthefutureauthor@fiercely-raging-writer

Book Tour Stop! Review: ‘Misrule’ ('Malice’, #2) by Heather Walter

Book Tour Stop! Review: ‘Misrule’ (‘Malice’, #2) by Heather Walter

[ID: ‘Book Reviews’ and ‘Sabrina @ Notes From a Paper Plane Nomad’ in lilac and yellow text on a space-themed background.]

Green and goldGold and greenA power which we’ve yet to seeAh, but ne’er will come the dayWhen called a force unknown to Fae.

Rating:

4.5/5 paper planes

What’s This Book About?

Genre: High fantasy, retelling (Sleeping Beauty); LGBTQ+Publication: 10 May 2022Pages: 480…

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minor spoilers for six of crows, these violent delights, house of hades, the cruel prince and an ember in the ashes below!

listen i know we all love unhinged female villains but can we just appreciate unhinged boys for a second? like.

kaz brekker’s dark, wet hair against pale skin and glinting eyes when he tears out oomen’s eyeball because he can’t stand the thought that he might lose inej because she’s his wraith and yes, he protects his investments but he’s also afraid of being alone and won’t let the people he loves slip away from him, not again, because then he might actually turn into the monster everyone assumes him to be, and what would jordie think of him then?

roma montagov launching himself at dimitri in the fighting ring because he’s reached breaking point and his anger is overwhelming and all-consuming so he bares his teeth and lunges for his cousin to prevent himself from breaking down because if he can’t prove his strength to fucking dimitri of all people, how will he stay strong enough to resist juliette and make his father proud at the same time? and if he fails at that, won’t he lose everything?

percy jackson, perfectly composed, drowning akhlys in her own tears because if she’s inflicted so much sorrow on him, why shouldn’t she feel his pain for once? why shouldn’t she know what it’s like to feel afraid? why shouldn’t someone be afraid of him, for once, to give him the power to end their life in a flick of the wrist?

cardan greenbriar, eyes gleaming with hatred, pressing his quill into parchment to scribble jude jude jude over and over again, the ink bleeding through the page until it stains the desk beneath it, smiling dangerously as he holds a knife to the love of his life’s throat because it’s either kill her or kiss her and he’s not sure if he’ll survive either.

elias veturius killing his best friends in the third trial after seeing them dead in the first, anger tearing at his skin and blurring his vision because if he doesn’t kill them then he’ll be killed, and the only thing he’s been taught how to do is survive. it’s instinct. lifting his head slowly, hands shaking, surveying the massacre, blood stains spattered across his shirt, his stomach dropping because is this what i’ve become?

when something inside boys breaks and they go absolutely feral, it is absolutely terrifying. and i love it.

~ “Yes Sir!” -by PrettyMeredith ~

The Complete Guide to Becoming The Perfect Submissive Housewife

The 1950’s American Housewife is an icon from decades past where the pinnacle of gold standards of domestic obedience had been born. For any aspiring submissives, she should be reveared as a role model; the example in which they must strive to become in order to achieve desirable success with domestic obedience. Through this guide it will be outlined all in which one must do to becone the ‘Perfect Submissive Housewife’; a multiple part series that will go into great detail about adopting the lifestyle.

*Disclaimer* - Domestic obedience is not for everyone. And to be clear, this is a fictional fantasy series which involves adult NSFW themes and fetishes. In other words; SMUT. So before you get your panties in a knot, do understand that none of what you just read or are about to read should be considered as more than anything but. Thank you and Enjoy~

Roles & Responsibilities:

House Keeping-Laundry, Ironing, Bed Making, Mopping, Vacuuming, Dusting, Dishwashing, Bathroom Care, Car Washing, Preventative Maintenance, Garages Basements & Attics, Curb Appeal, Gardening

Culinary Expertise-Table Setting, Breakfast, Lunches, Tea Time, Supper, Baking, Sunday Dinner, Recipies & Cookbooks

Appearances-Hair, Makeup, Dresses, Shoes, Skirts & Blouses, Accessories, Pantyhose, Undergarments, Nightwear

Etiquette-Smile, Curtsy, Practice Silence, Be Polite, Language, Laziness

Acceptable Activites-Reading, Sewing, Knitting, Working Out, Bettering Yourself

Subjugation:

Household Hierarchy-Domestic Superiors, Relationships, Where do I Rank?, It’s a Man’s World

Servitude-Obedience, Pampering, Bonding, Home Decor, Body Care & Worship, Sexual Gradification

Discipline-Spanking, Bondage, Chastity, Tickling, Bastinado, Verbal Abuse, Public Humilation

Rewards-Flowers, Gifts, A Night Off, Affection, Orgasms

Social Occasions:

Hosting-Welcoming Guests, House Parties, Holidays

Public Appearances-Shopping, Date Nights, Social Media

Private Employment-Jobs, Office Life, Working from Home Volunteering

Happy… Pride month? Father’s day?  Why not both with these queer reads starring dads! Purchase through the publisher’s book market for 20% off as part of the pride sale.

The day before his coming-of-age ceremony, Eirik has a fight with his best friend—who had pointed out that, adopted by a pair of traveling warriors as Eirik was, how can he know who his ancestors are to celebrate them? Embarrassed and angry, he’s not in the mood for the story his fathers insist on telling him: The tale of the son of the god of Love who has never felt pain, and the son of the god of Envy who always does, how they struggle with each other and their community, and how, ultimately, they trick the underworld out of a very special prize. (m/m, fantasy, mythological, 20000 words)

Check this book out if you like:

• Cute demigods with feelings firmly in It’s Complicated territory
• Shape-shifting tricksters
• Daring rescues
• Found family feels

Innkeeper Pelerin is willing to do what he must to keep his city safe from demons—after all, he lost his beloved wife to demons many years earlier, leaving him to raise their son on his own.But when his now-adult son disagrees with his actions, he is forced to reexamine the past. Is he doing the right thing, when it may have caused the deaths of innocents? Why is his son skulking about, and what secrets is he keeping? And while Pel’s hands are full with this, a stranger comes to stay at his inn, one who makes the question more relevant than Pel ever imagined would be possible. (m/nb with side m/m, fantasy, 42000 words. Part of the Pandemonium series but can be read as a standalone.)

Check this book out if you like:

• Hot grizzled dads
• Young love *and* people learning to love again
  
• Disaster wizards and demon cats
• Dramatic escapes
  

Happiness in Numbers is an anthology of queer polyamorous stories around a family theme! Among other stories (there are a pair of GREAT dads in the story “Heart & Parcel”, for example), my story “If Wishes were Fishes” is about a dad:

After fighting off evil spirits, unwilling psychic Keith would love to take his time and enjoy dating Lucas, the ghost attached to him, and Hiraeth, the deer-antlered immortal he met not long after being dragged into the world of the paranormal. But when Hiraeth’s son shows up asking for help with a curse, Keith’s got a lot more to deal with than just finding time for a date! (m/m/m, side m/f/m, urban fantasy/paranormal romance, 20000 words. Sequel to Empty Vessels, but can be read as a standalone.)

Check this story out if you like:

• Grumpy bad boy tree-deer in souvenir jackets
• Fishes who try very hard to grant wishes
• Ghost love stories & immortal boyfriends
• Really awkward family reunions

Got someone new into the Cosmere

I got a new boyfriend and we went on a long trip together. Who played the audio book of Way of Kings the whole time? This person.

Who really likes the Stormlight Archive already? Him.

Win.

A new fan is born